So... It was inevitable, but I've stopped my dating shenanigans yet again. Why? Because- let's-face-it. No one entertains me like ME. *shrugs*

Anyways, this brings me to my next point. Some people just lack the kind of skills to "work it" in social capacities often needed to bag the attention and affections of the opposite sex. I didn't know how hard it was, but I realize now that it is almost a crippling handicap for some. And yet, even still, we all have this innate desire inside for love. Even if it's FAKE. YEEEEEEEEEEUP. Simple self love, yo! Well kinda.

I have a complete fascination with toys of the naughty nature. Probably because I'm Korean and I was bred to be a closeted freak, but mostly because I think they're HILARIOUS. My friend (who I won't name) owns an interesting bauble. Without going into too much detail, it is essentially a narrow rubber cup that looks like a flash light. I'll leave the rest to your imagination. For some reason I picture a silicone Chinese finger trap. Is that homoerotic? Well probably not on my part because I don't have a penis. I may or may not have been pilfering through his crap before making this unexpected discovery so I'm not inclined to further incriminate myself. Anyhoo! This left me completely boggled. Ok so clearly he wasn't looking for the lurve connection, but it was still more BUCK than BANG in my book and that is BOGGLING!

Recently, I watched a British documentary not so coincidentally named along the same lines of this post. I must tell you it was CRAY-ZEEEEEE and a little sad. Well, it left me a little sad. It's completely Lars and the Real Girl.

If you don't know the movie, it's about a socially akward loner who forms emotional bonds with a love doll bought off the internet. It sounds like a crazy, made for indie movie only plot, but it happens. It happens in REAL life!

The dolls are real too. OH THE DOLLS! These aren't your run of the mill-huff and puff-you a mate kind of cheapo rubber either. We are talking high class hooker kind of $$$. The kind of ladies Republicans and Charlie Sheen are caught with. I kid! But-no-really.

The question isn't really whether they exist or who's even willing to shell out that kind of cash. The question is... WHY!! One would think it was purely primordial- that the reasons were explicit and obvious. However, the documentary was fascinating not because of the grotesque displays of men and their very own life size Barbies, but more so because of the real attachments they all shared for these inanimate figures. There was a clear and visible adoration that went beyond the physical. There, on the television, was our basic need to feel the human connection perfectly evident and properly exhibited. It was almost HEART BREAKING!

It is a need to love and be loved in the most desperate sense. I imagine those are feelings most will never know. The audience can only sympathize for whatever feelings of isolation, failure, and rejection that lead to the Pygmalion-esque tragedies. OBVIOUSLY I have never felt that kind of void, but who's to say there is a certain right or wrong to how we go filling it.

Food for some thought. Ultra lux love toy or safety blanket for the heart?

Simply,

Em

It's Raining Men

Hello Word ~


So to recap- IT'S BEEN A CRAZY WEEK! I don't know how to exactly organize all the chaos into something clear, but here goes.


Date #1

Fred is the quintessential finance guy. He is smart, charismatic, and assertive. He's a schmoooooozer for sure, but not in the off putting way one would imagine. He's a bit older so by default perhaps a bit wiser as well. He seems to have mostly flushed out all the boozing and whoring days of yore, but I'm sure there lies all the possibilities of a full resurrection.


I imagine Fred's days are filled swimming in a deep tank full of sharks. He is a ruthless survivor. I'm waiting for his skills to surface. It is both intriguing and intimidating.

From the beginning, our rapport is instantaneous and almost immediately I feel that Fred is the kind of guy that could and does "get me" more than most. Our conversation is playful, light, substantial, and fluid. It is honest.

I hope it continues to be so.

Date #2

Aaron is the first Korean guy I decided to have drinks with and this fact alone causes some anxiety. I know it's a bit shallow, but it's the whole truth and nothing but the truth I tells you!

Starting off, it is the shitt*est night ever. The rain is pouring and the wind is all kinds of crazy. It is hard to pull of any resemblence of sexy in that kind of weather. I barely make it to the bar looking presentable. Understandably- he is late. Understandably- I'm still annoyed.

Upon first glance, Aaron looks like an Asian Buddy Holly. He is sooooo Brooklyn Hipster. What the hell do I know about that kind of stuff? NOTHING! However, as we talk it gets more and more confusing. I have a strong sense that he is high. He isn't. I think...

Aaron is more Cali than NY and his West Coast kind of cool is the kind I do not get nor prefer. But beyond that- I can smell his badboy heartbreaking stench a mile away. Aaron is the kind of reckless lover that I've learned to steer clear from at 26. How can I be sure? Cause mama didn't raise no fool. Ok she did. But mama's fool learns real quick!

Date# 3

He is:

23
Adorable
Completely wholesome
Gorgeous
Too Smart
All Logic
A nerd
Uninterested
Polite
Honest
Aware
Just not into me

I won't lie. I was quite a smitten kitten. Although the void in chemistry was clear I wanted to gobble him up pedobear style cause he was A D O R A B L E. Mommy can't I keep him??!!? PUH LEASE??

Alas, though he "enjoyed our bit at brunch" our personalities were "not a good match". Such an epic blow of honesty from a 23 yr old? OUCH.

Date #4

With Jason, securing a date is like making plans with Jake Gyllenhaal. It is almost near impossible. It is when I have all but given up that a date is procured. I'm kinda over it, but I go and he comes.

Our date is the familiar kind. I don't know what else to say because I feel like I've been here before. He's the quiet kind of guy who's amused by me and I am more or less the entertainment du jour. He's straight as an arrow, by the books, disciplined and dedicated. Ivy educated, musically talented and physically fit. He is so fracken well rounded I think I'm going to dieeeeeeeeee.

But he will be.... too smart, too stubborn, too busy,too big, too grown, too dedicated- to himself. How do I know? I just do.


Dating is a formula of all the good things I already know. I don't do it often, but I am certain I do it well because it's just been one of those things that has always came easy for me. They say that chemistry is hard to fake, but I'm not so certain it is. In fact, I want to say that for the most part, most of the time, it always is. It is a feeling made up entirely by only the best part of ourselves we are willing to show. At least it is in the beginning.

Sometimes it's an act in a scene I know so well I'm just inclined to play the part. But this time I'm crossing my fingers that it will ring true and sincere for me. Cause nobody can really go home if the show never ends and I'm just looking to go home.

Simply,
Em

A/S/L ???

Please tell me I'm not so old that you don't know what the title suggests?!

So, Yes- I have taken the plunge into the abyss. The online dating abyss that is... Am I embarrassed? A little. Am I amused? Thoroughly.

I'm not going to lie and say that this is my first foray into this limitless word of lurve. I have answered all of eharmony's 94823084130984 questions only to find out that computer generated love matches were no bueno. This, my kittens, is my first REAL attempt/honest effort at online dating. All this is happening at Okcupid.com. Why? Mostly cause I'm bored, but more importantly cause it's free. Who doesn't like FREE love? Especially the Asians. We're all about the free. I have put my blood, sweat, and tears into creating- well let's just be real- an AMAZING profile Simplyemily007. All opinions are welcome, only some will be taken into consideration. (Mostly none will be taken into consideration.)

Still lingering on the why? Because. If you don't use it, you lose it. Hey there awkward guy, dating is a skill! One that needs to be updated. Like Excel or... Your crappy bra. Yes I'm losing this metaphor battle, but its 5:30 in the morning and my finest work is NOT done at 5:30AM.

Not convinced? Online dating is a MAYJAHHHHH ego boost and damn-it I'm in need of some ego boosting. About this ego boosting... It's fast, convenient, and serves my need for validation. Instant gratification. Voila~~~ In a mere two hours I have received 83 views, 14 messages, and 4 winks. Apparently Winks are important as one is only granted 1.5 per day. What the hell is a 1.5 Wink? I don't know, but that's apparently what I'm allotted.

From a quick looky loo, not all online Romeos are pathetic losers equipped with socially awkward behaviors still living at home void of any real life dating experience. Probably just most of them...

I will not answer you if you are:

Fat

Ugly

Fat and Ugly

Boring

Creepy

Start off any conversation with "hey cutie/hotstuff/Asian mama/Konichiwa(unless ur Japanese)"

Have no profile picture to legitimize any claims on physical appearance

Please check up on me often as I do not want to end up on an Episode of Investigation Discovery: Dangerous Love. Dun duh duh....

Simply,

Emily

Bandaides

Hey KitKats!

As you may recall, I have been fighting an epic feud of Biggie and Tupac proportions awhile back. BUT we both put on our big girl shoes and I am delighted to post that our friendship is on the mend folks. So, in the light of all that is chummy and good, I'm posting a good ol' fashion retraction. That's right- a retraction. You know... Like when TomKat and Brangelina sues Star for all the junx they print??!! Take for example: Katie forced to have a silent delivery with Suri?!! (OMYGAT- you know that TOTALLY happened because Tomisacrazymofo).

Anyways, my super smart and beautiful friend who is NOT a whore might sue my ass for defamation of character or something incredibly celebutante like that. Only crazy people get sued for stuff like that, no? I mean, who the hell knows what "intrusive allegations" are, but I bet you she does and will come get my ass for it!

I could take down my last post, but I'm an asshole and this is my blog. You want to be an asshole and have free range on the things you spit out of your tiny, underdeveloped fingers? Do it on YOUR blog. So while I can't won't lift the post (yes cause I'm an asshole. Dammit! Did we not cover that?), I do offer up a bandaide to my galpal. But one of the big ones. Sorry BB. You are a woman of outstanding sexual morals and are neither Jezebel or hussy, minx or wench, strumpet or harlot, floozy or lady of the night. Ah- you get the point, right?

So there it is people. Let it be written that Emily is an asshole and while she maintains the freedom to rant and rage, her friend X is NOT a wh***. But the last post stands. Okthanksgoodbye.

Simply,

Emily

My Trash, Not Exactly Your Treasure

Oddly enough, my friends and I never collided when it came to boys. Our tastes were so vastly different- mostly because I had some and they didn’t ( I KID! o_O ) that it never posed as an issue.

It is estimated that there are 6,697,254,041 people on earth. 309,338,000 of them live in the U.S. Roughly 18,560,280 are men. Crap ton of them are single (fill out your damn census!) There is absolutely no reason to recycle. END OF STORY.

Fortunately for me, my best friend decided to go green recently and embrace “ reduce and reuse “ as her mantra. Unfortunately for me, she meant she was she was reducing her pool of guys and reusing mine. Awesome.

Actual Conversation

X: Would you mind if I started dating B?
Me: Um… No I guess not. It’s not like we were official or anything.
X: Really? Great! I mean I wouldn’t if you had a problem with it.
Me: Sure…


Actual Conversation (in my head)

X: Would you mind if I started dating Fagatron?
Me: Are you retarded?
X: It’s not gross or inappropriate, right?
Me: Are you retarded?
X: I know there are like a million other guys, but we had sexxxs so it’s kind of special now.
Me: …
X: I think you’re being selfish
Me: I think you’re being a whore.

Yes, I know for you avid readers you distinctly remember as I climbed on top of my high horse and denounced the words whore , slut, and skank from my vocabulary. But that was before I met one in real life and earned back the right to use it.

Even more despicable is when fuck ups try to patronize you and act as if they are genuinely surprised at the outcome of their strategic decisions they played to get what they want. Own up to it PUH REEESE!

Actual Conversation

X: We didn’t expect this. It just happened.
Me: Yeah… I almost never participate is sketchy web chats every night with guys my friends were interested in.
X: I mean we were totally caught off guard.
Me: Yeah that happens when you invite a guy you never met to vacation at your house.
X: I’m so glad you understand!

Ok so clearly there are remnants of an angry, bitter separation I have yet to fully come to accept, but such is the case in relationships you feel the most invested in.

Please don't get me wrong. The mourning doesn't come from a loss of this particular boy. Clearly he's a winner... It's PRINCIPLE! If one has to ask, it is WRONG. Questionable means shady. Shady means danger. Danger means destructive to friendship. Anymore questions?

I don’t believe in recycling boys. I don’t believe in asking if it’s ok to recycle boys. If you breathe on him, he’s yours. If you touch him, he’s yours. If you kiss him, he’s yours. If you sleep with him he’s yours.

Oh- I don’t know-but he has now been lifted from the market of mass consumption because- so sorry- I’m on a strict no Double Dip Diet. Left overs are gross. Sloppy seconds are vomit inducing. * Wrinkles nose in disgust *

Although my former bestie, void of all common logic, would like to argue that he would always be somebody’s sloppy seconds, I’d rather let E.coli eat through my lower intestines before I helped myself to some of my friend’s sloppy seconds. Just doesn’t sit well in the stomach, no?

I’m sorry. Did I miss something in Friendship Decency 101? Was it not alarmingly clear this rule? Are we so peen deprived that friendships are now casualties in the wake of pursuing men?

Message to X: In case you didn’t know… There are 18,560,280 fucking men in America. Some of whom didn’t get the memo you are an awful skank. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t collect my trash, and, instead started a proactive effort to find your own guys. I’m sure you’d like me to get over this, but… I MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT!

Simply Emily

Cheap and Easy

St.Patrick’s Day is right around the corner and nothing gets me thinking of this special green holiday like… well honestly speaking, nothing gets me thinking of Paddy’s Day like pasty ginger kids and left over green Mardi Gras beads. But right after that, I promise, it’s beer.

I really like beer. WOW I sound like I have a problem. But I do. I really like beer-mostly because it’s cheap and easy. I like cheap and easy. Moreover, I like my cheap and easy beer in red plastic cups that remind me of a more simple time where life was actually cheap and easy. Makes a gal feel real young I tell you. Moving to the city has really kind of ruined that for me. Ten-dollar beers in tall glasses with fancy orange slices just don’t speak the same language you know? It’s been awhile, but here’s an SAT analogy for you my kittens. Fancy is to beer as high class is to hookers. OMYGAT! What an oxymoron.

Okay, I’m digressing. Here’s a list of beers I will be drinking in offensive amounts on this garish and tacky holiday. Cheers!

1. Hoegaarden Witbier (BELGIAN): This white beer is fantastic. Specifically it is a fresh Belgian wheat beer. It is pale and cloudy in appearance and is usually spiced with coriander or orange peel. Because it is mildly sweet and acidic, it is a great thirst quencher.
2. Guinness Brewers (IMPORTED/DUBLIN): I’m not much for black and tan, but I thought I’d add this for those of you who are ^^ For those of you who know me, I like my beer just like I like my men- PALE. Anyways, Guinness and Harp is where it all started. Guinness is a dry stout. It has a distinctive black body and creamy white head. They say you should wait 119.5 (approx. 2 min) seconds before drinking as there is a difference in taste, but I’m usually in kind of a rush to get drunk.
3. Yuengling (MICROBREWED): Yuengling is America’s oldest brewery. Experts (alcoholics) say that Yuengling is a great outdoors beer made to be consumed after hard intensive labor like lawn mowing and such. It has a nice neutral taste with a honey-grain finish that both guys and girls can appreciate.
4. HoneyMoon: HoneyMoon is a ”seasonal ale” from Blue Moon. It isn’t available now which makes it like summer time gold for me. I’m not a fan of Blue Moon because I swear it takes like water left over from washing buttloads of celery, but I’m kind of in love with it’s sexier, sweeter brother Honey Moon. The bottle reads “…clover honey, fresh orange peel and both pale and white wheat malts…” but I just read a mouth full of DELICIOUS.

Beer I won’t touch even if you laced it with a rim of crack served on Daniel Henney's ass.

1. Stella Artois (BELGIUM CRAP): This bougie beer hails from The Kingdom of Belgium and is a fancy beer masquerading as good beer. It is much like Grey Goose. All marketing. Cannot, will not be picking this one up by choice.
2. Heineken (DUTCH CRAP): Oh the bitter taste of Heineken… Only angry Asians who want to fight and find the thick and heavy bottle convenient to smash on ones’ head drink Heineken. That is all…
3. Natural Light (DOMESTIC CRAP): I know you guys don’t want to hear me say it and as it pains me to do so, nostalgia will not keep me from saying that this beer is total and utter crap. Avoid at all costs. I’m pretty sure someone blogged “ Natural Light tastes like a yeast infection.” Disgusting, but seems on point to me.

Well the night is deep and my day will be long so I’m wrapping it up. I hope you guys have a safe and delightful St.Patrick’s Day to which I hope you will not remember because you actually went out and had a good time. Ta Ta~

Simply,

Emily

Use Me, Abuse Me, Come and Amuse Me

Dating in New York is much like dating anywhere else- if you were on... SPEED.

I may not be the perfect example, but this expatriate will tell you, Southern girls don't date. We have relationships that subsequently lead to marriage and then babies. Sometimes there are different arrangements in the order,but there is a man and a baby involved none-the-less. I however did not follow the laws of the land and decided to make a run for it before they could figure it out. Sneaky eh ??

So while masquerading as a city mouse here's what I've learned on dating, drugs, and the strange comparisons between the two:

1. Dating is Expensive

Most will say that dating is only an expensive sport when it comes to men. Au contraire! While I agree with you that many a men have spent generous amounts of money for mediocre dates on countless women, I must put in that women in New York spend money like no other to snag the aforementioned dates. Do you think we wake up looking like sugar & spice? Here's the breakdown of a BASIC date.

Women

1. Toner $35

2. Day cream $45

3. Night cream $75

4. Eye cream $60

5. Sunscreen $35

6. Liquid foundation $58

7. Loose powder $35

8. Gel eyeliner $15

9. Lip gloss $25

10. Mascara $25

11. Lashes $13

12. Dessert/Coffee $15

13. Cab fare $20

Total: $456

Men

1. Drinks X 4 $68+tax+tip

2. Dinner $ 80

3. Dessert/Coffee $15

4. Movie $24

5. Cab fare $20

Total: $207

The typical retail price of speed varies from $60-$100 a gram and half.

2. Dating is Euphoric

Of course this is all depending on the woman/man in question, but for the most part dating is exciting because it holds the promise of something that can be. There are a lot of these can be chances in the city. NYC is home to more than 8 million people. Ok- not all of them are single, but that's a whole lot of people squeezed on this tiny island.

Love releases surges of endorphins that incites a feeling of happiness much like people who use amphetamines to increase levels of dopamine. Yes love is a high. Or something like it...

3. Dating Causes Anxiety

City Mice are serial daters. Just not with the same person... It isn't uncommon to go on a lovely date with a guy/gal and not hear from them for oh... about a month. This sets a casual tone that releases you from any and all expected responsibilities of serious dating. This offense is mostly repeated by men who work in FiDi (financial district). These extremely busy men find it nice to have a few dinners and other similar forms of companionship once every other week without the complications of commiting. Drama of having to deal with potential "feelings" and the stress of DTR's (define the relationship) are time consuming and something that can be easily avoided with the right amount of strategic dating. This logic lies behind the idea that one cannot expect anything from someone you talk to/see rarely.

Next time you bask in the glow of your last date and feel all fluttery, try to remember its not butterflies- It's called anxiety.

Anxiety is a combination of components that induce feelings of uneasiness, fear, and worry.

Frequent users of recreational drugs like speed find that they too are often anxious and moody as levels of norepinephrine (stress/anxiety hormones) are increased.

4. Dating causes changes in:

- libido

- concentration

- energy

- self esteem

- self confidence

- sociability

- irritability

5. Dating is Addicting

Compulsive dating is habit forming. It lowers your expectations and standards. This is mainly due to over exposure. Simple fact lies in the fact that you meet more losers than winners. We can't all be winners. Run with enough losers and you begin to find it the norm. Who wants losers to be the norm? O_0

In my opinion one must work to find, maintain, and stay in healthy relationships. Although I have yet to execute such intense labor, I believe, bouncing around from one loser to the next creates a habit. Habits are repetitive actions we have preformed so often that it becomes an involuntary response. Involuntary response! Good Gosh- we have now officially become robots. Or maybe just me.

- Simply Emily